Supernatural Snippets
by HarryPotter'sgirl17
Summary: Little moments in the Supernatural verse that touch upon different people, difference times, and different universes. Inspired by the ever talented FeathersMcStrange.
1. Author

**A/N: First things first; I really need to figure out a new name for myself... I had originally come to to do Harry Potter stories and thought that my name would be perfect, not realizing at the time that my interests would expand to other things. A quick glance at my profile page can show how quickly that changed...**

**So now, dear readers and reviewers, I am on the search for a new name! Any ideas or thoughts would be appreciated and considered, interesting ones will even receive feedback!**

**Now, on to the inspiration for this collection of dabbles; I have recently become enamored with the TV show _Supernatural, _I am even saving up to go to the convention being held in Toronto(please, please, please, please...!) and I was browsing the gallery for the show and found some really good stories... Then I stumbled upon FeathersMcStrange's wonderful _The Road So Far_ shorts and just fell in love with them. It was a few reviews later that I just knew I had to write my own!**

**So, thank you, FeathersMcStrange. I hope that these are as good as your own!**

**(Really, guys, you should go read them! But don't forget to read mine too!)**

**Now that this rather long author's note is out of the way, we can get onto the dabble!**

_Chapter One: Author_

Most authors just want to write a good story.

No, scratch that; most authors want to write a really great story, a really _fantastic_ story. Have it touch someone's life, make a difference somehow, make the darkness in the world fade a little... Maybe even give people hope that tomorrow might be a brighter day than the one they're currently living in...

Most authors do not expect the characters that they write to suddenly appear on their doorstep and demand reasons for why their lives had to be such hell.

Sure, some writers base characters on people that they know; the main character's hot girlfriend that loves him so unconditionally that she spurns all others might have traits of that popular chick that you never seem to get because you're always that 'weird nerd' or the psycho, wanna-take-over-the-world villain of the piece has the same sneer the bully that stole your lunch money and somehow managed to duct tape you to the assembly room wall in your underwear had...

Anyway.

Chuck certainly did not expect Sam and Dean Winchester-the actual Sam and Dean, and not another pair of crazy fans-to be standing on his porch, despite the fact that he had just been writing that they were coming there. To him, it had always been a book series, just a pair of characters going through adventures that helped garner him praise, and some times was the only thing that kept the roof over his head... Now here they were, the two people he had put through both torture and horrible writing, demanding to know what the hell was going on.

At first, he thought that it was a joke; who would believe that people you thought you made up in your head would come knocking on your door? Nobody, that's who, and he had become extremely tried of people demanding to know what was happening to the Winchesters when he nearly made him sick to write it half the time. So he did what any sensible person would have done, he attempted to shut the door on them, and get back to what his life amounted to, now that he stopped publishing the story of the two that seemed determined to overtake his entire life.

Dean had other plans and those plans did not include Chuck slamming the door in their faces. Needless to say, it didn't take a lot of convincing after that for Chuck to realize that he was actually dealing with the characters from his books, live and in person.

As he stood there, staring at the pair of them, in the flesh and blood, not merely the product of one massive headache and nightmares, Chuck was certain of two things: One, Dean was probably going to try to kill him before the day was out... and two?

He really needed a drink.

**Meh, I'm not sure about this, but it's only the beginning! I swear they will get better as I go!**

**So, read, review, give me a prompt or two... Have I made a rhyme? :D**


	2. Birthday

**A/N: Prompted by my own special day, and the fact that I love this angel so much and don't think he gets nearly enough screen time... This was originally going to go up much sooner(Birthday is May 2nd, make of that what you will...), but Life Happened and thus it was set back a few weeks... Then I started reading the updates to the Supernatural stories that I love and got really depressed because they are absolutely AWESOME! So my inspiration went into the toliet and I didn't want to write for a while after that as well.**

**Anyway, I'm back into the swing now that I finally convinced my Muse to come out from under the couch(good thing I have a decent supply of chocolate and plenty of fluffiness!) and now will be updating regularly!**

**_FeathersMcStrange_: Yay! My first reviewer was the person who inspired me! You are awesome!**

**_snseriesfan_: Glad you liked! Don't worry, there will be plenty of Dean in this one!**

**Enjoy!**

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_**Chapter Two: Birthday**_

-0-0-0-

"Hey, Cas? When were you born?"

Castiel looked over to where Dean Winchester was sprawled across his bed in their motel of the day, cleaning and reloading the arsenal of weapons the Winchesters carried, all while trying to appear as casual as possible. That attitude itself might have made Castiel uneasy for several reasons, if not for the fact that they already had this conversation before and Dean had not been satisfied with his answer at that time, as well. "I have already told you, Dean, I was created before humans had perfected a way to separate time into measurable units."

As Castiel expected, his response caused the hunter to roll his eyes and let out an angry huff of breath, which snagged Samuel's attention from whatever he was looking up on the internet. The younger Winchester had always claimed that his computer was for research, but what Castiel had seen on there when he had 'dropped by' put that claim into question... Unless, of course, Samuel was reaching how to become a contortionist, but some of those positions appeared to be quite painful, if the moaning of the females was anything to go by...

"Hello! Earth to Cas!"

Castiel blinked once and then returned his attention to Dean, whose look had gone from annoyed to slight concern, which in turn made Castiel look to Samuel for clarification, but the taller man was giving him the same look as well so Castiel decided to ignore it in favor of trying to explain what he was thinking about in that moment. "I am sorry, but what exactly do you plan to learn with this line of questioning? We have gone over it many times before..."

"Call it a personal interest." The brothers exchanged a look that only lasted for a matter of seconds, piquing the angel's interest, but Dean continued before he could question them about it, "I mean, you know almost everything about us, but we're still working on the jack side of squat for figuring out about you... So, come on; can't you at least take a guess, you know, based on what you learned when we finally figured out the calender? I know you were born a bajillion years ago-"

"I am sure that is not a word in the English language, Dean."

"-but can you at least tell us what day it was?" The man continued, over both the angel's interjection and his brother's laughter, giving them both a glare as he finished. "Come on, Cas! Early January? Late February? December? There's a whole list of months to choose from, take a random pick for all I care!"

The angel blinked at the outburst, but declined commenting again on the irrationality of the questions Dean was posing; there must be some reason for the man he had pulled from perdition to ask him this, even if the answer would always be the same. Perhaps he wished for some way to make Castiel more human, as being an angel seemed to throw the man, despite his protestation to the contrary: The shortening of his name, which even his fellow warriors were starting to pick up on, was an obvious clue that his hypothesis was correct...

It appeared that Castiel was getting lost in thought again, if the looks his companions were giving him was any indication, so he replied with, "I still do not see how this is important, nor why you have such a keen interest in the day of my creation, but I have learned that your reasons are not always apparent at first glance... I do not know how to convey the exact 'date' of my creation, but I do know that my vessel's birth day was on the 20th of August, in the year 1974."

Dean seemed satisfied with that answer, even going as far as ignoring Samuel smirking at him as he went back to cleaning out the pistol he had in his hands and whistling a Metallica song that he had pointed out to Castiel in the car as 'one of their best songs, period'. Castiel, however, did not remember the song and did not have time to ask Samuel if he did, for he received a call from Heaven and by the time either Winchester looked up to speak to him again, he was gone.

-0-0-0-

Several months passed and Castiel answered the odd summons from the Winchesters, staying only a few moments and then leaving when all of the information that needed was given, a few times even talking over a few unimportant things before going back to Heaven. However, as the end of that year drew ever closer, the brothers called less and less, spending even more time than usual staying at Bobby Singer's scrapyard... It was also apparent that they were planning something big, something that he caught them whispering at when he decided to 'pop in' and immediately stopped whenever they noticed that he was there.

"Jesus, Cas, warn a guy before you do that!" Dean barked harshly, stuffing something brightly colored and springy underneath a table when he noticed that the angel had appeared behind him yet again. "What can we do for you that's worth you scaring the rest of the years off my life?"

"I was curious as to what the general estrangement between us is for," Castiel responded, trying to see what Dean was trying so hard to hide from him as a frown grew between his brow, Samuel's footsteps announcing his arrival from the upstairs bedroom. "I do believe I have grasped a better understanding of human interaction and have taken your request for personal space into account, so I am unsure what might has caused your discomfort with me..."

"Wha- Huh- We aren't 'estra-whatever-it-was-you-said' from you and there is no discomfort!" Dean stopped trying to stuff the brightly colored... _thing_ under the desk he was standing in front of as soon as he realized that his brother was making his drowsy way toward the pair of them. "Sammy! Tell Cas that there's no discomfort!"

"Wha-a-a-a-at?" The word caught on a yawn as Samuel rubbed at his eyes-surprisingly making the grown man look somewhat childish-and blinked a bit before the angel in front of him came into focus. Blinking a few more times(and stifling another yawn), Samuel gave Castiel a small smile. "Good morning, Castiel. Is there something wrong? What're you doing here so early?"

"He decided it would be a good idea to just pop in and then tell me that there's apparently some sort of problem..." Dean finally gave up trying to push the cumbersome object under the desk and just threw his jacket over it with a look that Castiel took to mean that he was not to look under it before crossing his arms and changing his expression into one that immediately wiped the rest of the lingering sleepiness from Samuel's face, "Now, you're going to tell us where you got the idea that we're not cool any more!"

The rest of that day was spent being reassured by the brothers that they had not been ignoring him, being forced by Dean to watch a multitude of movies because the hunter was getting 'damn tired of Cas "not understanding that reference" and having to explain it', and having Samuel try to feed him various things despite the fact that Castiel did not need to eat. Castiel leaving that night had more to do with him needed to get out from the overcompensation than any call that came from Heaven...

-0-0-0-

It was with a bit of apprehension that Castiel answered the next prayer from Dean Winchester, and it had more to do with how the call was worded more than the way they had acted the last time he had visited:

_Oh, Castiel-who might show up even before I finish this-please appear unto us in Bobby's Scrapyard. That is in the scrapyard itself and not the house!_ The prayer was cut off then, making Castiel wonder if Samuel had interrupted his brother for some reason; usually, they were both in need of his help, so why would he interrupt Dean now? There wasn't really much time to contemplate that, for Dean had started his prayer again: _Whenever it is convenient, just give us a heads up before you pop in... Thanks, the Winchesters._

Taking a few minutes to wonder at the message, Castiel pulled out the phone that the Winchesters had collectively given him as a way to 'stay in touch' and dialed the first number that was on there, wondering as he did so why they had so many phone numbers to begin with as the phone hummed with it's rings.

"Hello, Agent Forrester, FBI."

"Dean, it's Castiel."

"Oh, hey, Cas!" For some reason, Dean's voice grew over the phone, almost as if he were alerting whomever he was with just whom it was he was speaking to. This odd behavior had Castiel wondering once more just what it was that had happened to his charges that made them act so strangely, but before he could really think about this shift in their attitude, Dean was speaking again; "I take it you got our message? So does that mean that you-Jesus Christ!"

Castiel watched as Dean Winchester shrieked like a small child and jumped back when he realized that Castiel had appeared right behind him. Despite Dean's constant-and rather angry-demands not to do so, Castiel still felt the need to show the hunter that he was capable of appearing wherever he choose, whenever he chose. "I am here."

"Son of a... I can see that." Taking a deep breath, and picking up his phone from where he dropped it, Dean gave Castiel a half smile that had him tilting his head in confusion, unsure as to why Dean's eyes kept darting to the house behind them. "So... um... thanks for showing up. There's this... uh... text that we can't really translate... It looks like it was from the time Adam and Eve got their first palm leaves and... we kinda thought that... maybe you could tell us what it says... being an angel and all..."

"Dean."

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Is there something in the house you do not wish me to see?"

There was a momentary look of panic on Dean's face before he quickly schooled it back into his normal expression, making Castiel frustrated with the confusing conundrum that his charges had managed to become in the time it had been since he met them as Dean quickly babbled that there wasn't anything wrong with the house and that he was just seeing if Sammy was coming out to tell them if he made any more progress. Castiel decided to sway telling the elder Winchester that-as an angel-he could tell when people were lying, and as the angel that pulled him out of Hell, he could **always** pick up when Dean did it, in favor of simply turning on his heel and making his way to the place Bobby Singer called home.

Behind him, Dean made a few halfhearted protests before he plodded along behind him, almost lost in the wake that Castiel was making as he hoped that whatever was in the house would finally help him figure out what the mystery was that surrounded the Winchester brothers. It did not occur to him that he could have-to use Dean's favorite phrase-'zap' himself inside, but he figured this way that his humans would not be so shocked by his appearance that they would not be able to answer his questions...

"Surprise!"

Needless to say that it was Castiel that was startled when, upon opening the door, he was greeted with a veriety of colored strings being shot in his direction, Dean slumped against the door that sheilded him from any strays as he laughed at Castiel's plight. This went on for several minutes before it seemed like their supply ran out and Castiel was left standing in a heap of multicolored mush, a piece here and there falling from his head.

Oh man, Cas! You looked like you just popped out of a cake for a clown's retirement party!" Dean managed to control his laughter long enough to inform Castiel of this before dissolving into hysterics again, leaving Castiel to look to the other Winchester, who was fighting off a smile of his own if the way his lips kept twitching, to explain.

"I do not understand why you did that, Samuel."

This made the smile that the younger Winchester had been fighting off bloom across his face, although there was a sheepish tint to it now. "It's called a surprise party, Castiel. It's what you do for a friend on their birthday... You don't always have to spray them with Silly String, but it's suppose to make it a little more... fun."

"How?"

"Well, usually, the person that the party is for manages to get one of the cans and spray the people who threw the party back. It goes back and forth for a while until all of the cans are empty or someone calls a halt to it." Samuel threw a look over his shoulder at Bobby, who was rolling his eyes at the three of them, leaving Castiel to assume that he had been the one that halted this rather unique rite in the Winchester's past... "I told Dean that this was a bad idea, but the jerk didn't listen to me..."

Castiel looked at the hunter in question, who was still giggling behind the door that Castiel had opened, then back to Samuel, who had an expression that Castiel had come to realise meant he wasn't sure if the angel fully grasped what he had just been told. Taking in the fact that there seemed to be a few cans of that 'Silly String' left, Castiel held out his hand and inquired, "You say that there is retaliation to be had after the first attack, correct?"

"It wasn't really an 'attack'..." The hunter trailed off as he handed Castiel one of the spare cans (after shaking it, of course, which earned him an odd look from the angel) and then quieted completely when he saw who his intended target was...

"Dean."

"Yeah, Cas?" This time it was the elder Winchester who was taken off guard as Castiel emptied the entire contents of the can Samuel-who now was the one that was so overcome by hysterics that he had slid to the floor-had given him. After giving the can a couple of shakes as he had seen Samuel do, Castiel had to concur that it was well and truly empty as both Winchesters made it to their feet, one a bit more irate than the other and made no qualms about making this fact known with a rather loud, "Dude, what the Hell?"

"I found that... strangely satisfying." Castiel informed Samuel, handing him back the can and somehow causing a few errant giggles to escape his frame, along with the fact that his brother 'looked like a Smurf threw up on him' as he threw the can away. "What else do people do at these 'surprise parties'?"

Samuel managed to control his mirth with much more ease than his brother and also managed to answer Castiel's question with only a few minutes pause; "Well, _**normally**_,"-the fact that this word was stressed told Castiel that Samuel was annoyed that this requirement was not being met for this 'party'-"they're suppose to have cake and ice cream, but Dean decided to ignore that went I sent him out for supplies earlier..."

"Aw, come on, Sammy!" Dean's own annoyance seemed to have vanished when he realized that they were going to be getting to an activity that he had a certain relish for: eating. "Pie is so much better than cake!"

"I do not require sustenance to function, anyway, Samuel." Castiel felt that he had to explain this a lot, despite the fact that Sam and Dean remembered much of the other things he told them... He could only conclude that since they did so much eating to sustain themselves and he since he was in a human vessel, they were constantly confused as to what angel really needed.

Rolling his eyes, Samuel led the way into the house with a muttered, "That's not the _point_..."

Curious as to what the point was, as well as to what this 'birthday' ritual that he had yet to see the Winchesters preform for each other-despite the fact that they celebrated other major holidays, not matter how wrong they were-Castiel followed Sam, Dean and Bobby into the house, wondering just who all was included in Bobby's muttered 'Idjits.'

-0-0-0-

**That... was a lot longer than I thought... And I know that Cas isn't really this clueless, but that was a lot of fun to write! Besides, my story, my rules!**

**Anyway, drop me a line, tell me what you thought, or give me a prompt for 'C'! See you on the other side!**


	3. Comfort

**A/N: You guys seem to be liking these so far, so here is another for your viewing pleasure!**

**Okay, this popped into my head because I was re-watching _Supernatural_ and I was wondering what it might have been like for the Winchesters as kids-or Wee!Chesters as we fans call them-because we only see a few snippets of them little and it just made me wonder a bit more about how they grew up.**

**And, in keeping with _Supernatural_'s theme, it's a little... angsty...**

**_The Stygian Angel_: I'm glad that you liked my snippets enough to label them 'Awesome' and hope that the ones that follow are good enough to garner similar praise!**

**_FeathersMcStrange:_ As always, the fact that you reviewed this made me smile, and I'm extremely honored that you gave a shout out to my stories in your own!**

**_LURVEuALL:_ I'm glad you liked it! And don't you worry, Bobby's story is coming up!**

**This snippet was prompted by _FeathersMcStrange _and if you haven't read her collection of drabbles, _The Road So Far_, YOU SHOULD! They are awesomesauce to the Pepsi Max!**

**Now, ignoring the fact that this soooo late that it's date was originally posted in Roman numerals, I had to fight through three different cases of writer's block, fuve demanding, rather rabid, plot bunnies and enough family drama for me to either get my own special award for patience, or a private wing in a mental hospital...**

**On with the story!**

**-0-0-0-**

_**Comfort**_

**-0-0-0-**

Sammy was crying.

Dean was only eight years old at this point in his life, this was the very first time that their father had left them alone; although, he _had_ left strict instructions for Dean to look after his brother and what to do if anything happened, it still made Dean feel very grown-up and important... but despite the fact that Dean had done everything that he could think of, Sammy was _still_ crying.

He had no idea what started it; Sammy had been perfectly fine when he came home-if you could call their cheap motel of the month that-and had done his homework, ate his dinner, and watched T.V with this quiet, brooding look on his face that Dean had immediately figured was because of something some brat had said to his brother and he was going to have to teach the squirt some manners... It wasn't until the pain in the butt was tucked into bed that the sobs started...

They started off soft and stilted, like he was trying to make sure that Dean couldn't hear him, and that bothered the elder Winchester a lot more than the tears themselves, at first; Dean figured that he could solve whatever it was that was causing his brother to bawl like a girl, but the fact that Sammy was _hiding_ it from him, hurt. He was Sammy's big brother! Sure, he may tease Sammy every now and again, but he was and would always be there for the kid, no matter what...

Why was Sammy trying to hide what was hurting him _now_?

After much wheedling, a fair bit of teasing, and more than enough threatening, Dean managed to get Sammy to unwind himself from the impossibly small ball that he had wrapped himself into and 'tell big brother what was wrong'. As his little brother's sobs winded down to hiccups, Dean surprised his little brother by pulling him forward into a hug, seeing that he needed the comfort and ignoring for the moment that Dad always said that talking about their feelings was something 'only girls did'.

His Sammy was upset and he was going to give him a hug, gosh darn it!

After a little while of being stunned at the fact that his brother, 'almost an adult now' was giving him a hug, Sammy seemed to have finally found his voice as he shifted out of his brother's embrace and looked him in the eye, before dropping his gaze to the bedsheets beneath them, his fingers picking at the worn edges as he swallowed hard and forced whatever thought that had been clunking around in his brain all night out. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"What happened to Mom?"

The hesitantly spoken question causes a shot of ice to go through Dean's young heart and travel through his veins as he unconsciously tightened his hold on his baby brother, his memory throwing him back into the night he could remember with perfect clarity; the night that their mother died in that horrible fire, the night that still haunted his dreams and turned them into nightmares that ended with him losing more than one family member...

He could still feel the sudden and confusing fear that had gripped him that night, pulling him out of sleep and running down the hall to his parents room for them to chase the monsters and shadows away, only to see his little brother's room engulfed in flames... There was only a few seconds that his heart felt like it had stopped, like all the air had been punched out of his lungs, before his father was pushing his Sammy into his arms and ordering him to run out of the house and 'don't look back'...

Sammy seemed to realize that his question had made his brother relive memories he'd rather forget and he immediately curses himself for asking the question in the first place as he tugs on Dean's shirt sleeve in an attempt to get his attention, even calling out his name.

"Dean?"

He had carried his precious bundle out of the house, wrapped up as tight as he could hold without hurting; he didn't stop to wonder what had happened, didn't bother to see if his father and mother were following... All that mattered in that moment of time was getting Sammy, _his_ Sammy, out of there and somewhere safe... The only reason Dean had stopped in the yard was because he had no idea where he was going to go with his brother, being only a kid with no money and no mode of transportation...

"Dean...!"

At that point in time, even at four years old-hell, even _now_!-his little brother was the most important thing in the world to him and there was nothing on this Earth that would change that! He had taught the kid how to read, had taught him how to write, add, subtract, everything... It scared him to think of what might have happened had Sammy asked this question of their Father instead of him; would Dad be forced to remember what happened that night, making him holler at Sammy for bringing it up or would he just drown out them and the world in a bottle, dropping them off at Uncle Bobby's while he hunted down some new lead that always seemed to end with him coming back bloodied and bruised?

"_**Dean**_!"

The fear in his little brother's voice pulled Dean out of his troublesome past and into the not-as-troublesome present, making him realize that his grip on Sammy had turned vice-like and that his little brother's arms were starting to turn white from the blood loss. Clearing his throat and blinking the blurriness away from his vision, Dean managed to choke out, "What brought this on, Sammy? You know that we don't talk about Mom... why now?"

Sammy curled-if possible-even tighter around his brother's form, burying his face in Dean's shirt so much that he had to lean his head against the top of Sammy's to hear his next words; "We were doing a project for Mother's Day-it's in two days-and I told the teacher that I didn't have a Mom... She told me that it was okay, and that I could do something else... but then, this boy that sits in the back..." There was another sniff, a watery hiccup, and if Dean wasn't already convinced to rip this kid's lungs out, Sammy's next words would have definitely proved to him that the little shit needed a severe pounding, "He said that the reason we don't have a Mom is because she didn't want me... so she left..."

The rest of Sammy's explanation was lost as Dean wrapped his brother in another bone-crushing hug that had Sammy letting out a startled yelp, but Dean was too caught up in trying to keep his own tears from flowing to loosen his hold; he had known, from the very first day their father had piled them into the back of the Impala, what had happened the night their mother died wasn't anything normal... His father wasted no time in informing him of the truth, with the stipulation that he never let Sammy in on the secret, and Dean wasn't going to break that promise now... but how does he explain what happened and how important it was for Sammy _not_ to tell their Dad...?

Dean's attention was again diverted as Sammy shifted in his grip, trying to retrieve some of the sensation that left his arms from his brother's grip, his tone still shaky and jumpy as Sammy spoke past his tears. "Is it true, Dean? Did Mom leave... because of me?"

It's the voice that hurts the most, the tone that says he expects Dean to tell him that what that little waste of space said is true and that he's the reason they don't have a mother... Dean grits his teeth, pulls his brother away from his embrace just enough to see his face, to see the tears still forming in his toffee eyes and state firmly, seriously, with no room for argument; "Mom did _not_ leave because of you, you know that, Sammy! Mom... d-died in a car accident, and before you even _ask_, _**that wasn't your fault either!**_"

Sammy's tears eventually slowed and stopped, his grip on Dean slowly slacking as the exhaustion caught up to him. Dean didn't mind; even though they had reached the age that their Father deemed 'too big to share a bed', there were still nights when Sammy crawled into his whenever a nightmare became too much for him to handle on his own, so sitting on the bed until his brother calmed down was no big deal.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Sammy's breathing evened out and his head slowly landed on the pillow at the top of the bed, eyes slowly drifting close. Dean figured the kid had finally drifted off to sleep and shifted his weight slightly, trying to slip out of the bed and into his own when a small hand reached out and grabbed the very edge of his shirt, a tentative grip that seemed like it would break if Dean moved another inch...

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

Sammy took a deep breath and then opened his eyes so that he was looking right at Dean, making him feel like he knew that Sammy was worried that he was not going to like it when his little brother finally asked, "What did Mom look like?"

Dean, now on the edge of the bed, turned his hand over so that he could grip Sammy's in his own. He figured that the conversation was heading in this direction, but it didn't mean that it didn't hurt to have to remember the Mother that had been stolen from him... Then he realized that he at least had his memories and Sammy didn't even have that, so why not tell his brother a little bit about their Mother? "She looked like an angel, Sammy; completely beautiful with blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and this way of hugging you that made you feel like nobody would ever get at you again..."

"What color were her eyes?" Sammy asked, his own wide and rapidly blinking as he tried to fight off the tiredness to hear more about the Mother that he barely knew. "Were they blue? Green? Brown? Was she really tall? Did she laugh a lot or was she really serious?"

Dean laughed at Sammy's stubborn fight against his drowsiness, scooting closer to the younger male and letting his Sammy use his leg as a pillow instead of the threadbare thing at the head of the bed. "Her eyes were a deep blue, Sammy, kinda like a pool and they sparkled like jewels whenever she was happy... She always seemed so happy whenever she held you, Sammy. Dad said that she had the same expression whenever she held me too, but I think you were extra special..."

Sammy was quickly losing the battle against falling asleep if the sudden jerk of his head was anything to go by, but a twitch of the lips told Dean that his comment had lifted his brother's mood drastically, and Dean felt a well of happiness swell in his chest at the thought that he had made his brother feel better, so he decided to keep going and remember as much about their mother as he could... As much for his own sake as for his brother's...

"She always called us 'her little angels' or 'her little miracles' and told me all these plans she had for us when we grew up, like going to college and marrying pretty girls so that she would have a ton of grandkids to spoil. I asked her once if she cared if I didn't get married for a while, because I wanted to go traveling and she said she was perfectly okay with that because she wanted to do that too, but she decided that she wanted to get married and have kids instead..."

Sammy fell asleep to the comforting sound of his brother's voice, which continued to ramble on even after he knew that his brother had drifted off, remembering things about his mother that he hadn't even thought of for a few years... By the time their Father returned home later that night, both boys were fast asleep, curled around each other like a pair of puppies in a store window; so rarely had John Winchester seen them look that peaceful, he decided that he would just leave them be and dropped into his own bed with a low groan.

It wasn't until a few days later, when his brother was running toward him with a bright smile and a green colored card addressed to him, that Dean realized just how much Sammy appreciated and needed that talk...


	4. Daddy

**A/N: I've started to think that whenever I get stuck, and can't think of anything to write, I just need to go to FeathersMcStrange's _The Road So Far_ fic and reread everything that she's written. Then my inspiration comes back and I'm chock full of ideas!**

**She has also oh-so-graciously allowed me to expand on some of her ideas, once more showing how very awesome she is!**

**This one came from 'List': "Until he started school, Sam called Dean 'daddy'."**

**Enjoy!**

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_**Daddy**_

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The first time he hears the word, six-and-a-half-year-old Dean is strapping a just-barely-two-year-old Sam into a high chair he 'borrowed' from a fast food joint he had visited earlier in the day to 'use the bathroom'. It freezes him in his tracks and it's a good thing that he has one arm around his little brother or Sammy's face would have had a rather uncomfortable meeting with the floor...

"De-de!"

"Whoa!" Dean finished strapping his brother into the chair and stood so that they were eye to eye, making the younger of the two giggle and throw his hands in the air, screeching louder than the banshee their father was hunting. Trying not to grin at Sammy's antics, Dean clicked the table portion of the chair into place and grumbled, "You better get more food in your stomach than on me this time, squirt, or you're going to have to learn how to feed yourself!"

"De-de!" This time the word came with a swinging hand that connected with the right side of his brother's head, almost as if the toddler was demanding that he pay closer attention to what it was that was being said. "DE-DE"

Distractedly rubbing at his temple, Dean gave Sammy a wide, goofy grin while crossing his eyes that has the just-barely-a-two-year-old screeching in delight again as the older Winchester muttered, "Got a good right hook on ya, squirt. You're going to be one hell of a fighter when you grow up...(This earns him another happy screech, along with another flying hand that Dean has to avoid.) "You trying to say 'Daddy', little buddy? Daddy's working right now, so how about you try saying 'Dean'? Can you do that, Sammy? Can you say 'Dean'?"

"De-de!"

"No, not 'Deedee'," Dean corrected, trying not to frown; Sammy always got upset whenever he saw either Dean or John frowning and Dean did not want his brother to think he was upset with him. "'Deedee' makes me sound like a frickin' girl; say 'Dean', little brother. Deeeeeeaaaaaaaan."

"Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Dean couldn't help it; seeing his little brother trying so hard to say his name, with his little brow scrunched up in concentration, had him laughing out loud. A moment later, Sammy started laughing and screeching as well, little arms failing as he did some sort of happy dance his highchair. "Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Okay, okay, little brother, I got it!" Dean winced, rubbing the side of his head on his shoulder as he tried to get the ringing in it to stop. "Leave me with at least one working ear, okay?"

Little Sammy was obviously having too much fun with this new game to pay his brother any mind, if the happy-but still earsplitting-"Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" that followed meant anything; yet, Dean wasn't one to try to take away anything that made his brother happy, so he just shouldered through trying to feed Sammy in between screams of his name, wincing on the few times that Sammy hit a particularly high note that seemed to even make the windows rattle.

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The next time it happens, Dean is eight and Sammy is a few months away from turning four.

It's not like the kid can't talk; find something that interests him, and just _try_ to get him to shut up! It's more of that Sammy just doesn't really have a reason to talk, other than things that strike his interest or to ask questions about things that confuse him. Dean doesn't worry because he knows that whenever Sammy has a question or needs anything, he'll ask. Their Father has other things on his mind, so he never notices if his sons are talking or not...

No, what throws Dean is what happens when he and Sammy are left on their own again: They're playing with some old toy soldiers in the Impala, gun noises, brave last stand speeches, shouted orders and everything, with Sammy working on wedging one of them into the ashtray with a focus rarely seen out of the books he reads.

"What are you doing that for, Sammy?" Dean asks, just finishing a rather bloody battle between his toy soldiers and a zombie horde that consisted of two zombie toys and a lot of gray Legos, most of which ended up falling into the radiator "If that thing gets stuck, you know somebody's going to be pissed at you-"

"It's so we have someone watching over us," The soft reply cuts off what Dean was about to say, making him look over at his brother, who had scooted over to where they had carved their initials into the backboard a few weeks ago, his finger tracing the 'D' of Dean's insignia. "I wanna make sure that you have somebody watching your back when we're here by ourselves..."

It seemed like Sammy was in that stage where he believed that everything and its shadow had some sort of 'life' in it, and if Dean lived in any other way than what his current lifestyle was, he probably would've laughed at Sammy's reply. As it was, he just gave a short huff of breath and tried to figure out a way to make sure that their Father didn't get too mad about the Legos in the radiator or the army man that was most definitely wedged into the right door's ashtray...

The night passed as most nights they spent in the Impala did; quietly and with barely anything verbal passed between the two, but they still managed to make the time fun. It was only after the fifth time that Sammy lost himself into a yawn that Dean declared that it was bedtime.

Ticking the toys that they were playing with in the box that lived under the back seat, Dean and Sammy nestled themselves into the seat; Dean with one arm slug around his little brother's shoulders, the other wielding a sawed-off shotgun at the ready, as Sammy used his older brother as both bed and pillow.

"'Night, Sammy."

"'Night, Daddy Dean."

Dean started, looking down at his brother, but the boy had already fallen asleep; his face was in a relaxed smile, his body heavily slumped against Dean's chest. It was the picture of someone completely and utterly content, something that Sammy rarely was these days, so Dean swallowed down the desire to wake him back up and make him explain.

It wasn't that Dean really minded Sammy calling him that-he did practically raise Sammy 'cause their Father had things he needed to hunt-but this wasn't something that he had expected... What would their Father do if Sammy said something like that in front of him...?

The thought kept Dean up for most of the remaining night.

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It turned out that Dean didn't have to worry; Sammy never said anything incriminating in front of their Father, rare that they saw him nowadays... It was always when the two of them were curled up together in the Impala, or sharing a bed at Bobby's house, that Sammy would let out this happy little sigh and call him 'Daddy Dean'.

Sure, he called their Father by that name, as well as the more-oft-used 'Sir', but Dean was always the one he called 'Daddy'. It was something that Dean never told anyone, not even Bobby, but he never made Sammy stop either...

He would never admit it to anyone, would deny that he even thought of it, but the feeling he got whenever Sammy said that made him feel like he was the best brother in the world and that he could take on any monster that came their way. It was something he grew to look forward to on the nights where it was just the two of them...

Dean also knew that their would be a day when Sammy would outgrow it, when he would no longer add the loving 'Daddy' in front of Dean's name-the kid was already demanding to be called 'Sam' instead of 'Sammy'-but he figured he would enjoy it while he could...

After all, that was his job, wasn't it?


	5. Endure

_A/N: I got this idea after watching a really beautiful, heartbreaking video, which can be found here:http (colon, forward slash, forward slash) .com (forward slash) watch (question mark) feature (equal) player (underscore) embedded (and sign) v (equal) ltun92DfnPY_

_-Just remove the words and replace them with what they say, then remove the spaces-_

_You don't have to read this chapter, but I urge you to watch that video._

_Just... watch the video._

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Endure

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He watches as his partner sleeps, the gentle rise and fall of their breathing lulling him into an almost dreamlike state himself, but he fights the drowsiness to take in their face, the slope of their neck, all the way down the plains of muscle that make up their back, to the tattoo that anoints their shoulder like a badge of honor. It's there that his eyes stay, blurry due to lack of sleep, but utterly focused on the art that decorates this beautiful temple that rests in his bed...

Most would think the ink work ugly, or misunderstand the meaning, much like the few that have seen the ebony mark on his own chest; but, very much like his own design, it has a history behind it that cannot be explained in a few simple words... it needs to be personalized, needs to have the struggle that the ink commemorates fought and bleed through...

It needs to be _**lived**_.

There are a few that understand it, or think that they do, and congratulate his partner for living through 'such soul crushing hardships'. It gets them a grin, a shake of the head, and the response of 'I'd like to think of them as soul _**building**_, myself."

That usually gets them an uncomfortable chuckle as they leave wherever they were at the time...

His hand reaches out just then, his touch as soft as butterfly wings, to brush his fingertips against the words that are etched in the middle of their shoulder, smiling as they lean into the touch in their sleep... Words that say so much about who they are, what they did, and what they became; words that have a variety of meanings, a variety of ways to incorporate into every day life, and words that are as important to them as the words 'I love you', 'Always', and 'Forever' are to others...

Three little words, that say so little, and yet mean so much:

_**They were wrong.**_


End file.
